Missed Shot
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [alt. ending to ep5] He did hit Marcia, but he also managed to clip Isla and that meant a lot of baggage and a lot of changes. But not all those things had to change.


**A/N:** Written for the Diversity writing challenge, E21 – write in third person omnipresent narration. An alternate consequence for that cliffhanger in ep5.

 **.**

 **.**

 **Missed Shot**

 **.**

He'd been just a little bit off, and the shot clipped her.

It clipped her. Not enough to make her immediately fall. Just enough for her to stumble. For her to lose her grip on her weapon. For her to waver for balance. For him to tear his eyes from the quarry he really shouldn't take his eyes off. For him to dash towards her.

She lost her balance and her sense before he reached her.

Marcia had already fallen but neither of them noticed. He only had eyes for her and her eyes were blank, staring vacantly at the sky.

He whispered her name, then cried it louder. Her eyes flickered. Drifted towards his face. Closed.

Her name got stuck in his throat.

 **.**

Three days later, she was still sleeping. And he was cold.

The dorm room was lonely without her. There was no-one to tell him welcome home. No-one to make tea. No-one to be coaxed into awkward situations (and, honestly, he didn't know how many of those were his fault, how many were hers and how many were set up by their coworkers). And work was lonely too. No-one to walk to work with or to sit across from. No-one to stare at when he got distracted and who wouldn't hit him on the head with a fist or anything harder.

Though he may have been safe this time round because they'd taken to ignoring him instead. After that brief speech on how it wasn't his fault and they didn't blame him.

They were lying, of course. It was his fault. Sure, he'd apprehended Marcia. He'd almost gotten Souta and Isla killed in the process. And now Isla… He didn't even know _how_ Isla was now. She hadn't woken up. He wouldn't know until he woke up, what damage he'd done by clipping her with that gun.

 **.**

When he wasn't at work, he practised. They had a shooting range, amongst other things. He practised his aim. He clipped the bullseye a reasonable amount of times but never just that. The beam always hit one of the outer rings as well.

It might already be too late. It mightn't matter at all. It mightn't make a difference at all. But on the slight chance it wasn't too late yet, he was going to do better. He wasn't going to let anything like this happen again.

He wasn't going to fail again.

 **.**

They forced him to take a few days off. Said he was overstressed. Or maybe they were just tired of seeing his face. Tired of him hanging around the office unable to work without a partner. Tired of seeing him, perfectly fine, while Isla still lay in a coma.

While he was off work, there was little to do except practise. At some points he wished he wasn't underage so he could go get drunk and forget it all and not worry about breaking laws and trusts and things – but that was a coward's way out. Drinking for the wrong reason. Wishing for the wrong reason.

And Isla deserved better than that.

She deserved better than a partner who may have destroyed her.

 **.**

Isla woke up. He went to see her and the engineer didn't want to let him in but he insisted.

Isla looked at him like she didn't recognise him at all. And she didn't. her mind had been wiped clean.

And that wasn't the only different. Her body – had changed. The eyes were a different colour. The hair was the same though. Still that silvery grey that was almost white. But the eyes were blue: a cold flat blue drastically unlike the reddish brown he remembered. And there was something…else different too. Her body proportions looked off. Different. He couldn't place it, but his instinct told him that. He'd spent enough time with her to know.

'We had to reconstruct her,' the electrician explained. 'Her memories, naturally, were the first thing to go but the virus spread to some of the container as well before we could counter it –'

Container. A stark reminder of how different Giftas were to human beings, even though they looked the same. How their times were much, much smaller – but Isla had had time left. Months, definitely. Years, maybe. Probably years. Someone would have told him if it were otherwise.

Not that it mattered now. He'd failed her. She'd lost her memories of him…and of Kazuki too.

Kazuki was going to kill him.

 **.**

Kazuki didn't kill him. In fact, she looked almost sympathetic. Maybe he'd misjudged. Or maybe there was some part of the story he was missing.

'She's better off,' Kazuki said. 'The two of you can start over, without all the baggage she'd brought.'

He hadn't a clue what that meant, and he wasn't sure he could start over either.

 **.**

Isla was reassigned to him. This time, it was his task to teach everything to her and he did it. He tried to keep his distance though…but it was hard. So hard. They lived together. She was always making him tea – she hadn't lost that habit. And she carried the keychain he'd given her everywhere.

He almost regretted it now, if for his own selfish reasons.

He tried not to be selfish. It wasn't Isla's fault. It was him: all him.

He taught her everything.

And he told her to stay far away from him when he had that gun.

 **.**

She followed him to the shooting range. At first, he didn't realise. He just practised. Just slowly got better. And she watched from far away. Too far to be noticeable. But she crept closer. And eventually he caught side of her.

And he froze. His shot went awry. Mercifully far away from her.

She stared blankly at him.

She didn't understand the expression in her face. Or that feeling churning inside of him.

He did though. Guilt. Fear. His failure. That was what it was.

 **.**

He hadn't touched her diary in a while and one day he noticed it was gone.

It didn't matter. He didn't deserve that private connection with her anyway.

He didn't even deserve _her_.

 **.**

His resignation was thrown back in his face. He was dragged on to the field and he had to do his best, because he couldn't fail again. And he did. And Isla did her best as well. But she wasn't the Isla he'd known. The clumsy one who made her smile, and laugh. She was efficient. Impersonal. Sort of like a machine.

Maybe this is what newborn giftas were like. Before they made memories and personality.

And he'd stripped that development away from her.

 **.**

'I'm sorry,' Isla said to him, one day, suddenly. 'It's my fault.'

He tried to tell her it wasn't her fault at all, even if he didn't know what fault she meant.

But she didn't listen to him. And, later, he found her clutching her diary and he understood.

She was sorry for not being the Isla he remembered.

That was the worst of his faults.

And _she_ was apologising to _him_ for it.

 **.**

'Get over it.' That was what everyone said to him. And why not? Isla was fine now. Different yes, but fine. They were back on the job. Back to being a team – even if they weren't the best team they could be because he was trying too hard to protect her and she was trying not to need that protection. But they got the jobs done, and quickly.

He just couldn't bring himself to "get over it" as they said.

 **.**

Another Gifta they had to chase past their expiry date. He had a panic attack and they'd had to join in late. Unfortunately, that also meant the rogue Gifta ran right in to them.

And it ended with him shakily pointing his weapon again. And Isla in a fighting position, with her sword.

She was too close. He couldn't make that shot again.

He saw all too clearly what had happened. And what could have happened.

Isla lunged. She and the other Gifta exchanged blows and struggled for the other hand. Isla was calm. The Gifta was wild. And the Gifta was stronger. Far stronger.

He still had his weapon aimed. His finger twitched. Isla was getting beaten back. She was falling. She was getting up again. She was still too damn close –

And then the Gifta's hands were around her neck. And Isla's eyes were bulging. Her legs scrambling. And then she was falling limp. Her eyelids were flickering in his direction –

He fired.

The shot hit the other Gifta and disintegrated him.

 **.**

Isla was crying.

He'd never known Isla to cry, and again, it was his fault.

'I thought…' She gulped, then turned away. Was she afraid? Embarrassed? 'You wouldn't…' Shoot? 'Help.'

He felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. Why? Why would Isla think that?

'I didn't – ' He half screamed it, before the words got stuck in his throat. 'I didn't want you to get caught in the shot again.' His fists shook. She hadn't been caught this time. But it was luck. That's all it was.

She was looking at him again. Her expression was hopeful. And confused. Then she was looking at the blanket covering her legs. 'I thought…' She paused again, picking at a loose thread. 'You didn't care. That you only cared about the old Isla.'

He heard a silent "I'm sorry I'm not that person anymore" in that.

And that hadn't been what he meant at all.

 **.**

'I was scared,' he muttered. He didn't know why he was telling Kazuki of all people, but he was. Maybe it was because she'd been Isla's partner first. Because she sort of understood. 'I didn't want her hurt like that again. I didn't want to fail her again.'

Kazuki folded her legs. 'From my perspective, the one who's hurt is you,' she said calmly. 'Both times. When you short Marcia, you took only a couple of months of Isla's lifespan, you know.'

He hadn't known. But still, every day mattered.

'Not necessarily.' She considered him. 'Giftas deteriorate as their expiry date approaches, but the specialised engineers are so undercapacitated so they can't restore Giftas at the optimal time. So we leave the retrievals as late as possible to give their loved ones that time instead of wasting it at the facilities. You forced them to take care of Isla when it was best for her, and so we got one of our top Giftas back in prime form. On the other hand, you almost shot her. You didn't though, so that's trauma and emotional baggage for _you_.'

'You're trying to make me feel better,' he mumbled to his lap.

'I'm telling it like it is,' she shrugged. 'You've got the emotional range of a teaspoon whenever Isla's concerned.'

That sounded more like Kazuki's normal harshness.

'But what happened with Marcia was not your fault. And if you'd hit Isla, that wouldn't have been your fault either. As cold as it sounds, sacrificing Isla would have been worth saving Marcia – don't look at me like that.' She sighed. 'It didn't happen, did it?'

'But – ' He looked at her, then his lap. 'It could.'

'Yes', said Kazuki flatly. 'It could. That's why we do our best at the retrievals. So that doesn't happen.' She rubbed her leg. The artificial one. 'But when it does, we need to be willing to sacrifice everything. And hesitation is going to get people killed. It almost got Isla killed.'

'I know.' He faced his lap again.

She slapped a fist on the table and made him jump. 'Are you feeling sorry for yourself again?' she barked. 'Go and explain to Isla just why you almost killed her!'

 **.**

He took her to the amusement park. He couldn't talk in the dorm. Or at work. Or during a retrieval. And so outside it was. And he brought her another keychain too. Trying to recreate that moment she'd almost smiled for him. That moment where she'd accepted a gift from him. Isla who'd never accepted anything from anyone aside from that little token. Isla who he'd come to care for so much – but he'd bungled that quite badly at some point or other.

'I was scared,' he confessed, once they were on a bench and the sun had set. Isla's eyes bored into his temple. 'I'd almost lost you, and I didn't want to lose you again. Especially not like that. Especially not by…shooting you by mistake.' His fists tightened. His nails dig into his palm. 'I hit you on that day, and –'

'You never forgave yourself,' Isla finished. 'Kazuki told me,' she added.

He wondered if Kazuki had thought he'd never explain it.

'I was supposed to protect you,' Isla continued. 'You shouldn't have had to shoot that day – or shoot ever.' She was talking about both times. Recent, and the past with Marcia. 'I cost Kazuki her leg. I cost you a piece of your heart and the Isla you loved.'

'You're still Isla,' he said. 'I'll…try harder.'

Isla shook her head. 'We're partners,' she said. 'We work together. Maybe you should let me shoot the next shot.'

He looked at her. 'I practised on the targets,' she explained. 'And you're still better at explanations than I am.'

He didn't even know how she was at explanations now. He'd been trying too hard to do her job as well.

'Right,' he said, his shoulders slumping a little. 'We'll split the load. Just like we used to.'

He hadn't even realised what he'd been doing to her. Or what load she'd been carrying, because of him.

But then she smiled.

He had never seen her smile as naturally as that before.


End file.
